What the Deaf Man Heard, A Novelization
by Haiza Tyri
Summary: A short novelization of the lovely movie "What the Deaf Man Heard." An abandoned boy decides to pretend he is deaf as a way of dealing with his losses and manages to convince an entire town that he is deaf. Mainly takes place in the 1960s.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** "What the Deaf Man Heard" is one of my favorite movies. It is sweet and deep and gentle, deals with issues but lightly, and is the story of a kind of hidden identity. I have always been interested in what characters are thinking behind the lines given to them to speak, so years ago, when I was 22 or so, I set out to write the story of what everyone is thinking and feeling in "What the Deaf Man Heard." This is it.

(Note: There are a few places where characters think or say things that are fairly inappropriate by current standards. That is because they are reflecting 1960s standards, not my own or those of the makers of the move.)

* * *

Sammy's mom was impatiently calling to him, so he abandoned the can he was kicking and ran to their apartment. Scolding him gently, she helped him change his clothes and handed him one of their suitcases, taking the other. He wished she'd tell him where they were going, but all she would say was that it was time for him to move up in the world a little. She herded him onto the bus, carefully fielding his innocent and curious ten-year-old questions as he clutched his favorite music box with the tune his mom always sang.

It was a very long bus ride, but Sammy occupied himself by gazing eagerly out the window and at his fellow passengers. His mom was the prettiest woman on the bus, he thought loyally. She had red hair and green eyes, a pretty nose and a naturally red mouth. Miss Ellen Ayers, was her name. That reminded him.

"Mom," he said hesitantly, "the other kids ask me…"

"Ask you what?"

"Why my mom is a Miss while their moms are Mrs."

That was a question she wasn't prepared to deal with yet. Besides, he wasn't old enough yet to know how it was that his unmarried mother had a child. "Now, it's time for you to go to sleep," she said as if his question hadn't at all been important.

"But, Mom…"

"No buts, Sammy. Not another word from you. The only sound I want to hear is a ten-year old snoring."

With a sigh he settled down with his head on her lap and was soon asleep. He was an obedient child; for that she was thankful. She didn't know how she'd done it, but her son was a very good boy.

At eight o'clock the bus rolled into a town and came to a stop. "Half hour stop!" called the bus driver. "We leave at eight-thirty with or without you!"

Ellen could hear music from a bar across the road and could see a group of young people dancing outside of it. She loved the new swing craze. She was still a young woman, still pretty, still wanting a little fun. Sammy would be alright on the bus if she went over and had a drink and watched the dancers. The boy didn't stir as she slipped out.

With her drink in her hand, she stood in the door and watched the young people dance. One young man held out his hand to her. He was nice looking and had a good smile, so she accepted, determining to leave after one dance. But it turned into two, and he was a very good dancer. He was spinning her around and around when there was a shout and the sound of breaking glass. A fight was breaking out, and she tried to get away, but he kept spinning her until she was so dizzy she sagged against him. And then one hand was clapped around her mouth, and there was so much commotion that no one saw him drag her, struggling mightily, around the corner and into an alley. And the last thing she saw was the bus pulling out…


	2. Chapter 2

Sammy slept on as the bus rolled through town after town. Finally, at about ten o'clock the next morning, they came to Barrington, Georgia.

"End of the line!" the bus driver called out. Everyone trooped off, and he began going down the aisle, picking up trash. Then he saw the boy still sleeping, the one who had come on with the pretty woman in red. He nudged the boy. "Hey kid! Wake up. It's the end of the line."

Sammy awoke with a start. Where was he? Where was Mom?

"Your mom ain't here, kid. She musta got off somewhere. Dirty thing to do—abandon a kid like that. But it happens."

Nonsense. Mom was just waiting outside. Her words echoed in his ears: "Not another word out of you." And she'd always told him not to talk to strangers. So he didn't answer the bus driver; just turned and walked down the aisle.

The driver noticed the suitcases in the rack. "Hey, kid! Come get these!" When Sammy continued down the aisle, the driver muttered disgustedly, "Great, he's deaf and dumb."

Mom wasn't outside the bus, so Sammy sat down on the bench to wait for her. That's what she'd always told him: if he was lost, don't go wandering around. She'd come find him.

Norman Jenkins, the man who ran Barrington's bus station, noticed the kid and asked the driver about him.

"He's a leftover," the driver said. "His mom up and left him. I don't remember what stop. I know her type. Kid gets to be a drag on her, so she leaves him on a bus."

"Nonsense," Norm said, his gentle face worried. "He's just gotten separated from her." He knelt in front of the boy. "Where are you from, son?"

 _Not another word out of you._ Sammy just stared at the man.

"He's deaf as a post and just as dumb," the driver said. "Watch this. Hey, kid! You got your pants on backward!"

Sammy ignored him. He knew he didn't have his pants on backward.

"See? Deaf and dumb. I told you, his ma left him. Well, he's not my responsibility. I gotta go."

"Wait a minute! What if his mom is waiting at another station?"

"I tell you, she ain't waiting!"

Sammy listened while they argued, and it came to him like a revelation that if people thought he was deaf, they'd blurt out their true feelings without holding back. It would be fun to hear what adults talked about while he waited for Mom. It gave him a kind of power over things, at least until he saw how the land lay.

Finally the bus driver left. Sammy was glad; he didn't like him. Norman, whom Sammy did like, came over to him. "Well, son," he said, "maybe somebody'll come for you. Meanwhile, you want some food? Food?" He made eating motions, and Sammy smiled, realizing how hungry he was. "Good, then you just come in here." He led Sammy into Lucille's Kitchen, the café attached to the bust station. It was a homey little place, and it smelled good. "I wouldn't advise eating Lucille's food on a regular basis, but it'll do in a case of extreme starvation." The teasing note in his voice made Sammy realize he'd said it for the benefit of the woman behind the counter. She wasn't pretty, like his mom, and she was older, about Norman's age, but she had a kind, comfortable look.

"Extreme starvation! You've put on two belt sizes sitting on that there stool," she said indignantly. "Don't you believe him, boy. My cooking's the best you'll get."

"He can't hear you," Norman said. "He's deaf and mute—but I'll bet he isn't dumb at all. He looks like he's got a lot in that head. His mom left him—accidentally, I'm guessing. I figured we could…look after him a bit."

"I feed strays and send them on their way, not adopt them," Lucille said, but her face softened. "Now, I'm your Aunt Lucille," she told the boy. "What do you want to eat? Look up here." His eyes followed her finger to the signs she was pointing at. They were painted pictures of four different kinds of meals. "Do you want Number One," holding up a finger, "or my specialty, Number Two, or—"

Sammy held up one finger.

"I thought you had a bacon and eggs look," Lucille smiled. Within ten minutes she had a plate of food ready for him. Norman sat him at a table with his back to them and leaned on the counter. Sammy caught their reflections in the metal napkin holder on the table and adjusted it so he could watch them.

"What are you going to do with him?" Lucille asked.

"I figure somebody'll come for him."

"You should call Harvey."

"The police? No, I don't want to drag them into it. Harvey'll call the Highway Patrol and the state police…"

"Norman, you can't treat him like a stray animal! Somebody's got to take care of him. He'll have school, clothes, chickenpox…"

"We'll be better off without the police involved," Norman maintained.

"Norman, think about if he was your kid. Who would you call if you had a child missing?"

Norman thought about it. Lucille was right—she usually was. "Alright, I'll call Harvey."

Half an hour later, Sammy was seated on the hood of a police car being grilled by a tall, lanky policeman with greasy grey hair. A crowd stood around listening.

"Now you speak up and tell me your name," the policeman said.

Sammy just stared at him blankly. He'd seen a deaf kid once. The kid had acted like he was in his own world, like none of the stuff going on around him really mattered. Sammy could act like that.

"Harvey, I've already told you he's deaf," Norman said.

"What if he isn't? I think he's just being contrary. He looks like he can talk."

"How can he talk if he's deaf?"

"This is a kid who looks like he's not deaf," the policeman said stubbornly.

No one but Sammy noticed that a long black car was pulling up. Two childish voices were clamoring to get out and see what the commotion was. Before their black-clad mother could stop them, a little boy and little girl had jumped out of the car and were pushing their way through the crowd. The boy was about Sammy's age and had blond hair and the kind of round, angelic face that hid a very un-angelic heart. The little girl was about seven or eight and had big brown eyes. She smiled sweetly at Sammy, and he smiled back, his childish heart immediately won. Both the children ignored their mother's calls of "Tolliver! Tallasy!"

The boy heard the talk of the deaf boy and examined Sammy with insolent eyes. His look told Sammy that he knew, as small boys frequently know things about other small boys, that Sammy wasn't deaf. Sammy looked away from him. His eye caught the boy's reflection in the back of the police car's mirror, and he watched as Tolliver took a cherry bomb and a lighter from his pocket. He bit his lip, knowing that if he jumped when the cracker went off, the game would be up. He'd show this Tolliver kid!

The cracker exploded, startling the crowd, eliciting cries from everyone but Sammy, who sat calmly, staring around as if wondering why everyone was jumping. That convinced both Harvey and Tolliver, who was promptly punched in the stomach by his indignant little sister. The two children climbed back in the car, quarrelling, and Sammy's heart followed the little girl who'd flown to his defense.

"Well," Harvey said finally, "I dunno why you called me. I've not nowhere to put him. Harboring strays ain't in my jurisdiction. You should call social services." He drove away, and the crowd dispersed, leaving Sammy, Norman, and Lucille.

Norman walked Sammy back to his bench. "Well," he said, "somebody's sure to come for you. Or maybe you were sent so I could take care of you."

"I don't think so!" Lucille called. "This is the world's poorest excuse for an orphanage!"

"Don't you listen to her. You heard her call herself your Aunt Lucille. Well, obviously you didn't hear her, but that's what she said. She talks, but really she's all just mush. So you just stay right here and see if anybody comes back for you. If nobody comes today, I've got a cot in the back room you can sleep on."

Sammy knew he wouldn't need it. He knew his mom would come. He sat firmly on the bench waiting for her. He ran to meet every bus and examined the passengers as they disembarked. Hours passed, and Mom didn't come. Where was she? He could hardly eat the sandwich and milk Lucille brought out for him. When the sun had gone down and Norman began straightening things up and sweeping out the station, Sammy began to cry very softly. He knew Mom hadn't abandoned him. He knew she loved him too much to do that. But he also knew she wasn't coming. They were very close, and that connection between them was gone.

When Norman came and put a hand gently on his shoulder the tears were gone. This game, this pretense at being deaf and dumb was some kind of armor or a shield against the world, against the pain, against whatever he didn't want to think about. Norman led him into the back room.

"You can sleep on this cot. Why don't you take one of my shirts to sleep in and I'll have your clothes washed before they stick to you. You can use this sink, though it drips a little, see? And here, you can have this tin of Fig Delights in case you get hungry in the night. I'll see you in the morning, OK?" He awkwardly squeezed the boy's shoulder and went out.

Sammy clutched the tin of cookies close, wishing it were his music box that played the tune Mom always sang, and went to sleep as even lost, lonely children will.

Norman went quietly into the Lost and Found room and retrieved the two suitcases. Maybe there was some paperwork in them to give him a clue as to the boy's identity. One of them had clothes, the boy's and a woman's clothes. It was that that convinced him the boy's mother hadn't left him on purpose. She would have taken her clothes. The other suitcase held what he could only assume were personal treasures. Toys, cheap jewelry, a few photos, a music box that played an oddly familiar tune. And an envelope with a picture of the boy and a birth certificate. He read the official document. So the boy's name was Sammy Ayers. Not Samuel or Sam, but Sammy. He was ten years old. What was his mother's name? Norman read further. Ellen Ayers. And the father's name was here too. He read the name, and his eyes popped wide open. His mind boggled. He read it over again. So she was bringing the boy here. He scratched his head. _Well, what do you know? No one would ever have guessed._ He quietly replaced the birth certificate, shut up the suitcase, and stowed it away behind some boxes. It would come in handy some day. Better now for Sammy to forget about the past and begin a new life.

Sammy woke up early. He could see the sun rising through a window. The window was dirty, and he could hear that faucet still dripping. He wanted to repay Norman for being so kind to him—and maybe doing something would keep him from thinking. He was good at fixing things. He found a box of old tools and went to work on the faucet, eating Fig Delights as he went. They were sweet and full of crunchy seeds, and before he knew it, he'd eaten the whole box. He remembered watching a neighbor fix a leaky faucet, and before long this one had stopped its annoying drip. Then he wet a rag and washed the window, and, having found a broom in a corner, swept the floor. When Norman came in, he was sitting cross-legged on the cot, reading the back of the Fig Delight tin.

"Good morning," Norman said cheerfully. He put a hand on Sammy's shoulder, and Sammy pretended to start at the touch. "Sorry," Norman said. "Say, something's different in here. The sink's stopped dripping! Did you fix it?" He went over to the sink and made vague cranking motions, pointing to Sammy. "Did you do that?"

Sammy nodded.

"Well, I'll be. You're a smart kid. Are you hungry? Looks like you ate all your Fig Delights. They're my favorite, too. Hey, were you reading that, or looking at the picture? Can you read? Here." He took a small pad of paper and a pencil from his pocket and wrote, "Norman Jenkins," pointing to himself.

Sammy smiled, took the pad, and wrote, "Sammy Ayers."

"Well, Sammy, nice to meet you. Let's go get some food."


	3. Chapter 3

It's funny how time goes by, Sammy often thought. Somehow the next twenty years just went by. The country was changing, and Barrington changed, too, at its own pace, which was slowly, and not all at once. Buses kept rolling through, Norman kept working at the gas station, staying on a couple years past his retirement, and Lucille kept serving meals. They kept right on arguing in a friendly way and going to their respective homes at night. Sammy sometimes wondered why they didn't get married—but he never said anything. He still lived rent-free in the back of the bus station, taking care of the place on occasion when Norm went away on what Lucille called his secret fishing expeditions. Living in a bus station? How awful, some people would say—but Sammy would look at the way some of them were living their lives, and he wouldn't change places.

Sammy grew up all of a sudden it seemed sometimes. He became a tall young man with a quiet, thoughtful face, and his smile, which he reserved for those close to him, was sunny and almost involuntary. His eyes were deep and wise. Norm and Lucille knew they had a young man of intelligence and wisdom, but many people assumed he was an idiot.

The one person who had changed was Tallasy Tynan, that pretty girl who'd punched out her brother Tolliver. She'd given Sammy his first and only Valentine, which he still kept, pasted to the mirror over his sink. Tallasy had tagged after him some, years ago, and he'd fixed her first camera when Tolliver broke it. She used to tell him things that she wouldn't tell anyone else, and he'd listen quietly, watching her with his thoughtful brown eyes, filing everything away under the top-secret file in his mind called Tallasy's Secrets. A few years ago, though, she'd gone off to college and hardly ever came back.

Sammy listened to everything and everyone. People told him things, and from them he gained a deep understanding of human nature. God told him things, too, turning his knowledge into wisdom. He was so used to listening that when God had started speaking, it was only natural to listen to Him, too. That relationship was the deepest of all. The only thing that really bothered Sammy was being three parts fraud. Everyone still thought he was deaf, and by now it was habit, a comfortable old habit as well as a shield, to listen but keep from showing it, to smile pleasantly and blankly, to write on his little pad of paper when he wanted to make himself understood. He'd learned to position himself around metal surfaces so he could see behind himself, and taught himself not to jump when a noise startled him. He'd learned to notice _everything,_ to use his peripheral vision. Nothing escaped his notice. But if he was three parts fraud, he was one part handyman, and the best there was in Barrington—or so Norm liked to say.

The day in the spring of 1965 that Norm came back from a trip looking different—a little pleased with himself, Sammy thought, and filed it away—Sammy was in Lucille's Kitchen, fixing her toaster, when the door banged open, and a pale-blue suited figure came in. Tolliver Tynan was the one person in Barrington Sammy couldn't bear. His daddy had died rich, but he didn't die dumb. He left all his money to his widow to be held in trust for the children until her death, and the allowance that she gave Tolliver was piddling. He resented that, so he acted more important than he was to make up for it. He pushed around those he thought were weaker than himself and whom he didn't have to impress with his good looks, expensive clothes, and charm—and that included Sammy. Sammy knew he was stronger than Tolliver, for he could take it calmly and dismiss it, but he still didn't like the arrogant young man.

Tolliver greeted everyone in the café with the air of a country squire who owned the place and could thus afford to be nice. He slapped Sammy on the back.

"Hey, dum-dum!" He pulled the toaster out of Sammy's hands. "Just wait on that old thing. I've got more important things for you to do." He pulled a paper from his pocket and spoke in an exaggerated manner. " _One._ In the _hallway…_ outside the _minister's_ _office…_ the baseboard needs _replacing_ and _p-ain-ting._ Number Two. _Two._ 'Mother dear' would like you to _clean_ the _patio furniture…_ and _trim_ the driveway _hedge._ And _Number Three,_ as a special act of welfare, you can wash my car. You owe me for letting you do it! Dum dum!" He tapped Sammy on the forehead and strode out. Sammy smiled inwardly to himself, laughing at Tolliver.

"Oh, I wish Sammy would beat the pulp out of him one day," Lucille muttered.

"Sammy'll have his day—don't you worry," Norman smiled.

Sammy went on fixing the toaster. When he was done he got on his bike and headed for the Tynan place, but halfway there one of his tires blew out. He had the bike upside down and was looking for the puncture when an old truck pulled up.

"Hey, want a ride, Sammy?" Archibald Thacker called, making driving motions. "Where you headed?"

As Sammy wrote "Tynan Place" on his pad, the truck gave a lurch forward, just missing Tolliver Tynan as he was crossing the street.

"Hey! You could've hit me, Thacker!"

"I decided against it, Mr. Tynan," Thacker grinned.

Tolliver scowled. He thought it his duty to put the blacks in their place, even this big, friendly giant of a man. "Don't you get smart with me! I don't know why you can't haul this junk on the back streets. You're a blight on downtown Barrington."

"Oh, yeah," Thacker said sarcastically. "Beautiful downtown Barrington."

His two sons in the back grinned at each other, and Sammy looked down at his shoes to hide his own grin.

"I don't know why I put up with you," Tolliver ground out and stalked away.

"I've tried for years to find something to like about that boy," Thacker said to Sammy. "No luck so far. Well, hop in the back," motioning with his thumb.

Sammy listened to the two young men crack jokes as they rode along and hid his amusement by smiling at the sky as if it was especially pretty today. Archibald Thacker, a widower with four sons, had become wealthy over the years by hauling junk and cleaning up after other people. He had two businesses set up in the name of a white Atlanta lawyer. People thought he was just getting by, but what they didn't see was him cleaning out Atlanta banks for the last twenty years. Sammy had learned a lot of good business and money-making sense by listening to him. The fact was, Archibald and his sons had a third and even more profitable business that paid a whole lot better than, say, washing Mrs. Tynan's patio furniture.

Sammy went to work on the patio of the big, old plantation house. The Tynans had owned slaves generations ago, and to hear them talk, both Mrs. Tynan and Tolliver thought it should still be that way. Tallasy was different; she took after her daddy.

Mrs. Tynan, a beautiful but arrogant woman, came out and scolded Sammy for being late. He just stared at her as if he didn't know what she was talking about, and when she'd gone inside, he made faces after her. Then he was startled by a familiar voice.

"Mother, for heaven's sake, why do you insist on berating poor Sammy when you know he can't hear you or talk back? You certainly don't need the practice! You need to watch your blood pressure! Did you take your medicine today?"

This was the first time Tallasy had been back in some while. Piano music began to come from the house, a familiar, haunting tune. Sammy went around the side of the house, drawn to the tune, and stood outside the window by the piano. Tallasy thought she saw someone and looked out, but Sammy started back.

"Must you play that sentimental tune?" Mrs. Tynan groused.

"Sorry, it just came back to me. You know this is the first piece Daddy asked me to learn. His face would light up…I can still see him standing there." Tallasy was as pretty as ever. She'd cut her thick brown hair so that it framed her round face, but her smile was just as sweet and her speech just as frank as it had ever been.

Sammy went to clip the hedge, but he could still hear their conversation.

"I want you to do something for me, if it's not asking too much," Mrs. Tynan said. "We're getting a new minister. He's the top graduate from Barrington Seminary, of course."

Tallasy laughed. "Top grad from Barrington is like being first in the slow lane."

Her mother frowned at her. "He's going to be staying here until the renovations to the parsonage are completed. I want you to at least be civil to him. Make him feel at home."

Sammy and Tallasy could both see through Mrs. Tynan. She was always introducing her daughter to eligible young men, wanting her to marry and settle down. Tallasy only laughed. She didn't have the same ideals her mother did. Her mother would die of shock if she knew that Sammy Ayers had been her childhood hero. Tallasy had always known there was far more in that head of his than most people thought—had known ever since they shared that secret smile on that first day. He read voraciously, practically inhaled all the books she used to loan him. And though even with his little pad he never said much, he used to tell her things with it—like how he knew his mom hadn't abandoned him, and how he wanted to see the world. His grammar was always perfect, his handwriting neat and precise. He went to church every Sunday with Norman and Lucille, though most people thought it useless for a deaf man to go to church. Tallasy used to take notes on the sermon just so she could give them to him and see his face light up with a smile, and the old minister would give him a slip of paper with that week's Bible text on it before the service. Well, now the old minister was gone, and who knew what the next one would be like?

Her mother was going on. "His name is Perry Ray Pruitt. Be civil to him. It's our privilege and our duty to have him. Barrington Church always gets the top graduate. Your brother will see to that."

Tallasy raised an eyebrow. "I'll certainly try," she said lightly. She glanced out the window and saw Sammy clipping the hedge. She thought she'd seen him out there, listening to the music—wait a minute! Not listening, naturally. What _had_ he been doing?

"I want you to pick him up after the meeting.

"Who?" She'd forgotten what they were talking about.

"The new minister!" her mother said impatiently. "And take Sammy with you. Tolliver has work for him at the church. And make sure Sammy sits in the back! I don't want people to see him sitting up front with you."

Tallasy laughed at her mother's short-sighted prejudice. "Maybe I can tie a rope to him and make him run along behind."

Sammy was glad his back was to the house so they couldn't see his broad grin. Tallasy had a way of flying to people's defense by making exaggerated statements that showed people how stupid she thought they were being. Then she always did what she wanted. She even opened the car door so Sammy could sit up front next to her. As she drove, she rambled as she used to.

"I keep thinking about when you first came to town, and Tolliver threw that firecracker at you to prove you weren't deaf. I think he was jealous of the attention you were getting. I guess if you'd been on crutches he would've kicked them to see if you'd fall over. And they make him treasurer of the church! I guess they think if your daddy struck it rich you know how to handle money—like father, like son. Not hardly! Sometimes it's a relief to know I'm adopted." She glanced at Sammy. He was looking at her with the same expression he always used to have when she was telling him her secrets—thoughtful and as if, even though he couldn't hear her, somehow he understood. "I guess my secret's safe with you. My daddy was a doll, Sammy. I remember he was a quiet man. We'd take long walks, and he'd let me jabber on just like I'm doing now." She smiled, and Sammy smiled back. "You remind me of him a little. Hey!" She lifted her camera and snapped a picture of him. "So, we're going to have a preacher in the house. Reverend Perry Ray Pruitt, handpicked by the one and only Tolliver Tynan." She shook her head, wondering what the new minister would be like.


	4. Chapter 4

Perry Ray Pruitt was a big, good-looking young man with a slightly lost expression on his face. Tolliver was rambling on, gushing approval and occasionally stopping, exasperated, as the hammering of Sammy fixing the baseboard right outside the door came through the wall. Sammy was having fun and making a good deal of unnecessary noise on purpose, pounding extra loud whenever Tolliver was speaking and staring at him blankly when he came out to stop the noise. _Noise?_ he thought innocently. _I'm deaf; I don't understand what noise is._ He smiled pleasantly as the committee and the new minister trooped out to have a look at the new baptismal font, and kept pounding, measuring and fixing when Tolliver and his friend Percy Queen, a dour-faced fellow, came back in, Percy complaining about Pruitt's bad grammar.

"He's perfect, I tell you," Tolliver said, not bothering to lower his voice much since it was only Sammy. "Not the type to ponder insurance reports much."

"Reverend Driscoll was getting suspicious before he retired," his friend replied.

"It's an act of Providence, I tell you."

"Helping yourself to the church's insurance fund is an act of _larceny,_ Tolliver, not Providence!"

The years had taught Sammy not to react, but he was listening for all he was worth.

"Hey, you don't trust me?" Tolliver said.

"How can I when I don't even trust myself? I'm the one not sending in the premium papers to my underwriters. You're the one losing it on one bum deal after another!"

"What are friends for, Percy?"

"For sharing a jail cell, maybe."

Tolliver laughed. "Just relax. We'll put it back with interest. We've gone a hundred years without trouble."

"The church is only eighty-seven years old, Tolliver."

"See? We've got thirteen years grace period!"

Percy sighed. "I am in the insurance business, not the numbers racket! We've got to pay the premium!"

Tolliver just laughed again and led Percy out, leaving Sammy staring after them. Why wasn't he surprised that that was what Tolliver was up to?

Something else was going on at the church, too. That evening he saw two of Thacker's sons measuring the new baptismal font, muttering about whether it would all fit and how the timing had to be right. And one of them, Abraham, quoted, "If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly."

The other, Isaac, laughed and responded, "Well thought."

Two trash haulers staging Shakespeare at the baptismal font of Barrington Church? Just a little thing, probably, but it struck Sammy that something peculiar was going on.

Perry Ray Pruitt gave his first sermon, losing his place occasionally, misquoting a verse, and _not_ gaining any new converts to be baptized. Later, as Sammy picked up all the bulletins and gum wrappers and hair ribbons left after the service, he saw Perry sitting dejectedly on the side of the baptismal font, floating paper boats in the water. He went over and sat next to him, smiling at him in a friendly fashion.

"You're Sammy Ayers, aren't you? I hear you've kind of caught off on some of the people here." He sighed. "So have I." Sammy was easy to talk to; for one thing, he was deaf, so you could say anything, and for another he looked at you as if he cared. "The great Reverend Perry Ray Pruitt," he said with a bitter laugh, "with the call of God on his life. I never heard a call. It was my mother who heard the call. You can tell. You surely can tell."

Sammy continued staring at the paper boats in the water, wishing he could do something for Perry. He was used to fixing things, and sometimes he wanted to fix people's problems, too. The things he heard sometimes made his heart bleed for people.

Perry stared up at the ceiling. "Oh, God, give me a sign! If You've really called me, give me a sign or let me go! Just let me go."

Sammy was still thinking about that the next Saturday when he went into Lucille's Kitchen for breakfast.

"Mornin', Sammy," Lucille waved at him. "You want One or Two today?"

Sammy held up four fingers.

"Four? Different for once. The one Saturday you sleep in past seven, Norm decides to take off on one of his fishing trips. I don't see why he can't take you along, but I figure a body's entitled to some privacy. You know, he figures you've done more things for more people in this town than anybody since the town was founded." She smiled at him. "You're good for Norm, you know? I could see right away he was going to hang on to you like his life depended on it. He woulda retired and gone fishing a long time ago if it weren't for you—and your Aunt Lucille." She gave him his plate of food, and he reached across the counter and gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a tender look on his face. She patted his hand. "You could say we're family, I guess."

* * *

It wasn't a fishing trip. They never had been. For years Norm had been traveling on the bus up and down the routes he figured Sammy and his mom might have taken, looking for some sign of Ellen Ayers. And now he'd found it. A police inspector showed him the site where the unidentified body of a woman had been found years ago, expressing his gladness that they could now get a proper headstone for her. The man who'd done it had been caught and had died in jail. Norm shook his head.

"She stepped off that bus to stretch her legs, have a drink, intending to get back on. She had some unfinished business at the end of the line…"


	5. Chapter 5

That same morning Tallasy and her mother were at breakfast, each gently scolding the other. Mrs. Tynan was complaining about her daughter traipsing all over the country with that camera of hers instead of marrying and having children as a woman should, and Tallasy was nagging her mother about taking her pills for her heart. Outside the new minister was pacing up and down the lawn barefooted, practicing his sermon with many gesticulations and checking of his notes. Tallasy snapped a couple experimental pictures of him, and watched what had become a morning ritual. The paper boy rode by and tossed the paper into the air; Perry took off at a run, gathered himself, leapt high, caught the paper, and landed in a neat roll on the lawn. The paper boy grinned and saluted.

"That boy should have been a football player," Tallasy said.

"Don't be irreverent," her mother snapped. "Football instead of the church? What an idea."

There was a great commotion as Perry ran into the house hollering, "Hallelujah! It's my sign! I asked for a sign, and He sent it! Look at this! 'Weevils Bigger Than God. Dicky Devil of the British rock group called the Weevils states that he is more important than Jesus Christ'!" He rolled up the newspaper and smacked his hand. "It hurts just to read it. Burn them, I say! We'll build a bonfire and burn the records!"

"Oh, he is good!" Mrs. Tynan murmured.

"Don't you think cremation is a little dramatic?" Tallasy asked.

Tolliver peered out of the bathroom with a speculative look on his shaving-creamed face.

* * *

Perry presented his idea to the congregation the next day, and it was met with approval. The moral adults thought it fitting to burn all these blasphemous records. The youth thought it an exciting idea for dull Barrington. The children loved the idea of a bonfire, no matter what was being burnt. And Tolliver Tynan knew he could use the opportunity for his own gain. He talked it over with Percy after church.

"It'll be a great opportunity for us, Perce!"

Percy was still worried about the insurance. "Our underwriters are on my back, Tolliver. They want a premium check _now!_ _Cash!"_

"You want cash, Percy? This bonfire'll draw hundreds of people. New congregation members. Collection plates overflowing! We're talking cash here!"

"We're talking about eating meals from a tray, Tolliver. Taking showers in groups of a hundred!"

"All right, all right! Stop worrying. I'll make some calls. The Tynan name is still good for something in this town."

The Tynan name, maybe, but Tolliver was beginning to find out that the Tolliver Tynan name wasn't as highly respected. As he made phone calls the next evening, he discovered that no one would lend him money. He'd lost too much already. He flew into a rage and made a lot of threats that were all based on the day that he'd come into his daddy's money. He was still in a rage when he came out of his office and found Sammy fixing a light in the hallway. Sammy was a good person to take it all out on—but aggravating at times, like now, because he'd just look at you with a completely uncomprehending expression. What use was it to verbally abuse a deaf man? Tolliver stormed out to the sanctuary leaving Sammy staring after him, completely comprehending.

"Hey, you can't come in here!" Tolliver's voice rang in the hollow recesses of the sanctuary. "This is private property."

"I wanna see a priest. I gotta confess," the drunk man slurred.

"We don't have priests. Now run along."

"But I've sinned. I gotta confess. I'm Burley Masters from th' Highway Department—'cept they fired me 'cause I's drunk. But I got back at them—shtole the secret plans for the new highway interchange. I stole 'em."

Tolliver started to listen. "Just so happens I screen all confessions. New interchange, huh?"

"Yup. Top shecret. Shaint Morrey's Corner. Two hunert acres, but I'm repenting." He handed the papers to Tolliver. "I c'n trusht you, a man of the church, right? You'll get 'em back?"

Tolliver clapped him on the back. "You can trust me. Let's go talk over some coffee."

Right then and there, seeing that man victimized by Tolliver's greed, Sammy knew he had to do something—find some way to get things straightened out.

He thought about it, wondering what he could do. Meanwhile, plans for the big Weevil Burn continued. Sammy was sitting outside Lucille's Kitchen reading a newspaper when he heard his own name coming from the television in the café.

"Ironically," the newscaster was saying, "the man who has been chosen to light the bonfire is Barrington's own deaf-mute, Sammy Ayers. He may be the only man in the town who has never been exposed to the Weevils' music…"

Lucille threw up her hands. "Well, of all the—did you know they slated Sammy to do that?" she asked Norm.

"Nope, sure didn't."

"That Tolliver Tynan—thinking he can get away with anything. I am sick of the way he treats Sammy—like some trained chimp."

"Well, the chimp who laughs last laughs best," Norm said calmly.

"You know, it's useless trying to talk to you anymore! I just don't like to see Sammy made a fool of, Norm!"

"Don't you worry, Lucille." He looked at Sammy thoughtfully, through the screen door. "Do you ever wonder what's going on in his mind?"

"I imagine it's more than most," Lucille answered fondly. "He notices everything, you know. He sees more than you and I see. He's no fool, no matter how High-and-Mighty Tolliver treats him."

Sammy smiled to himself, gazing intently into the newspaper to make it look like he was smiling at something he read. He'd always found there was a kind of odd power in making people believe what he wanted them to believe about him, in knowing far more than they thought he knew. It was that power he had felt as a small boy in a very powerless situation. But still there were times, as now, that he wished he didn't have to deceive people like Norm and Lucille—and Tallasy. It never occurred to him during all these last years just to speak and undeceive them—silence was second nature to him—but there was still that desire for honesty. Tallasy had said to him one time, "I wonder what it's like to be deaf and mute. Is it like being locked up inside your head? You have all these thoughts—I know you do; I can see them in your eyes—but you can't _express_ them. How can you live without expressing yourself? I'd go mad. I'd pound against the walls of my mind and scream. But you seem perfectly content just to be quiet and keep everything in. Like my daddy." Sammy sometimes wondered what he'd say if he did speak. What would it be like to open his mouth and let words come out? What would it be like to have people _listen_ to him, and speak to him like an equal? But it never occurred to him to speak.

The next day, Sammy helped unload the wood for the bonfire from Archibald Thacker's truck. Thacker and three of his sons, Isaac, Jacob, and Judah had cut and hauled all the wood and roped in Sammy to help unload in front of the church. Perry came out of his office and stared.

"That is a _lot_ of wood!" he exclaimed unnecessarily.

"New padre, huh?" Thacker murmured to Isaac.

"Uh-huh. Still can't get anyone into his baptismal font," Isaac replied.

"Well, be thankful for small blessings," Archibald grinned. "What's he going to do here—burn someone at the stake?"

The sons laughed, and Sammy astonished himself by being unable to contain a chuckle. He covered it with a cough and went on with his work, but he didn't notice Thacker's sharp glance at him.

* * *

A couple days later, Sammy had decided what to do about Tolliver. Over the years he had saved all the money he earned and invested it through a lawyer, following Archibald Thacker's lead. He'd made a nice sum of money—not enough to turn anyone's head, but far more than anyone thought he had. Now he and his lawyer were in another lawyer's office, the lawyer of the man who owned the land Tolliver wanted to acquire.

Sammy's lawyer, Pete Heinman, said, "My client has made some modest investments over the years and wants to put in a counter bid to acquire the lease option on this land. He definitely has the financial ability to pay, and," chuckling, "I understand a hearing test isn't required to purchase land."

The other lawyer, John Greer, looked at Sammy, who sat there expressionlessly, watching their faces but showing no response to their words. "Sara, have coffee sent in," he called over the intercom. "My client is curious, you might say. He has never done business with your client, and the land was not put up for sale. Naturally he wants to know why your client suddenly wishes to buy it."

The door opened, and a white-suited figure entered with the coffee tray. Greer met his eyes and sighed. This was just the sort of thing his client would do.

A large, dark hand descended on Sammy's shoulder, and he jumped. Then he looked up into Archibald Thacker's face and jumped for real this time.

"I'd like a moment alone with your client, if I may," Thacker said.

Sammy allowed a bewildered expression on his face as the others got up. He stood up, too, but they motioned for him to stay. He pulled his pad of paper out and offered it to Thacker, who was going around to sit in Greer's seat behind the desk. Thacker ignored the pad.

"I wondered who it might be who put in the second bid. Makes sense that it's you, Sammy Ayers. You musta caught wind of those stolen plans about the same time Tolliver did, right?" He spoke this time not in the rambling, thinking-out-loud way people spoke to Sammy, but as one man speaks to another. Sammy stared at him, not sure what to think, and sat down quietly, offering the pad again. Thacker laughed. "I thought so. I figure you and I are the two biggest frauds in Barrington—me with my lawyer front man and you with your selected senses."

Sammy's eyes grew wide, and his breath caught. He knew! Not only did Thacker know what Tolliver was up to, but he knew Sammy's closely guarded secret!

Thacker laughed at the pure alarm on Sammy's face. "You checked out the property in question and found out Tolliver was about to invest in a bottomless swamp. How could that be? Well, Burley Masters wasn't fired for being drunk on the job. He was fired for drawing the map so far off the engineer's coordinates that it was in the wrong county!"

Sammy was still staring. He'd gotten over the initial shock, but it was still unnerving, being spoken to like this. And how had Thacker found out all this? By being quiet and listening, like Sammy?

"I own that two-hundred-acre mosquito swamp," Thacker chuckled. Oh, Sammy's face was something to behold. No doubt at all that he was hearing this loud and clear. "I was born on it, in fact. When I found out about the second bid on it, I knew somebody was trying to force Tolliver's ante up on his lease option. Ain't justice sweet sometimes?"

Sammy covered his mouth and began to laugh, without sound as usual, realizing that he and Archibald Thacker were an unlikely but well-matched pair. Thacker's eyes twinkled at him.

"Now then, partner, how about if Lawyer Greer calls up Tolliver and tells him it'll take another…" He scrawled a figure across the plans on the desk and held it up for Sammy to see. "…$10,000! I figure there's got to be a lesson for Tolliver in all this!"

Sammy's eyes danced, and he and Thacker shook hands. Then he seized his pad and wrote, "If a man digs a pit…"

Thacker laughed again. "'…he will fall into it. If he rolls a stone, it will roll back on him.' Exactly so, partner. So you're not ready to talk yet? That's fine. Would be kind of hard, I guess, after not speaking for so long."


	6. Chapter 6

When Tolliver heard the news about the additional $10,000 needed, he laughed. "There's been another bid on the land, Percy! They want another ten thousand! Well, here's a check for ten grand! I took out a loan on the church's Building Fund—only a temporary one, of course."

"The Building Fund?" Percy gasped.

"Don't worry about it, Perce! When the news of the highway interchange comes out, contractors will be on their _knees_ begging to buy from us! We'll get a hundred times what we paid!"

"Two hundred would be better," said Percy, doing calculations.

"Do I hear three?" Tolliver crowed. "Stick with me, Percy, and we'll be standing in clover!"

An hour after they made the deal and sent the check for ten thousand embezzled dollars, Tolliver and Percy went out to view their new land. Jubilant spirits plummeted, and they stared in shock at their newly-acquired swamp.

"There ain't going to be no highway interchange through here!" Percy cried. "This is the nothingest nothing I ever seen!"

"There's got to be some mistake," Tolliver murmured. "There's got to be _something_ here. Hey! Maybe there's oil under here. We're sitting on a huge oil field!"

"We're sitting on the insurance money! The Building Fund! The Parsonage Renovation Fund! The Parking Lot Repaving Fund!" Percy shouted hysterically.

"We'll take care of it," Tolliver said, always optimistic that his schemes would work. "We'll find a way to get more money."

Nevertheless he was still glum when they went back to town. Thacker drove by, read their doleful faces, and exchanged a merry glance with Sammy. That whole week Thacker had been keeping an eye on Sammy and grinning to himself whenever someone spoke to the "deaf" man. Life was great fun, he thought.

* * *

"I wish," Norm said to Lucille that night as they closed up the café and bus station, "that Tolliver hadn't roped Sammy into lighting that fire. I'm gonna talk to that Tynan kid."

Lucille gathered up her bundles. She'd insisted on taking Norm's laundry, claiming that the place he took them to made a mish-mash of the collars. "Oh, Norm, Sammy's his own man. We can't hold onto him—he isn't _ours."_

"The heck he isn't!" Norm said indignantly. "We _raised_ him, Lucille! Who's he got?"

Lucille smiled up at him. "I know he's filled a place in your heart…like I have, maybe." When he stared at her, she slipped out of the building and waited for him outside.

"Sometimes," Norm said as he locked the door, "I just don't understand you, Lucille. What did you mean by that?"

"I hear a lot of things," Lucille said. "I know that your wife and son died in the big flu epidemic when you were in France. And I just figured Sammy and I help fill a hole in your heart. We argue, and I feed you, and Sammy adores you. A sort of fill-in family."

"Why…why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Why take apart a clock that's ticking?"

"Well, I'll be. Thirty-two years…"

"Thirty-three and a half." She smiled roguishly at him and walked away toward her house.

"No starch on those collars!" he called after her and turned toward his own house, marveling inside. _All this time… Well, there was still time ahead._


	7. Chapter 7

That very night Sammy was strolling past the church when he heard voices and saw a familiar truck. He ducked behind a tree and watched as Archibald Thacker and his four sons unrolled a hose from their truck and ran it into the church. After about fifteen minutes they rolled it back up again and took off. Sammy went into the church, and immediately his eyes fell on the baptismal font. Eyebrow cocked, he dipped in a finger, tasted it, and recoiled. So it seemed that Thacker and his sons were engaged in the frowned-on but fun-filled business of moonshine distilling. Sammy had wondered, putting two and two together from the little things he heard and saw here and there—Abraham and Isaac measuring the font, Thacker talking about being thankful that Reverend Pruitt couldn't get anyone baptized, and just yesterday he'd heard Jacob and Judah talking about how glad they were that Leroy, Harvey's son and fellow policeman, wasn't too observant, or he would have seen the dripping when he stopped them for losing junk from the truck. They must have had a mix-up in their delivery schedule or something and had to find a quick place to store the stuff. Sammy shook his head, amused. Thacker had kept his secret, so he'd keep Thacker's. He just hoped poor Perry didn't find out.

Perry was too bewildered to notice much of anything. As the day of the bonfire approached and it got more and more publicity and Tolliver took more and more control of the situation, Perry's mind became more and more boggled. The Weevils, whom he'd hoped to vilify, heard of the bonfire and expressed thanks for the publicity he was giving them. On the day of the bonfire, the church yard and parking lot were teeming with people—some carrying signs against the Weevils and records to burn, others carrying signs declaring their love for the Weevils. There were carts selling hotdogs and popcorn and drinks. There were stands with souvenirs and fireworks. There were reporters and photographers and video cameramen. There were families with picnic lunches and teens in groups and militant older women. The bucking bronco Perry had started to ride had thrown him off, and he hadn't the slightest idea how to get back on. Sammy felt sorry for him. Perry knew he should have been filled with a burning desire to preach to the crowd then and there, but he wasn't.

Norm and Lucille had closed the bus station and café to give Sammy some moral support. Tallasy came to see the fun, and Mrs. Tynan was there virtuously defending the minister. Tolliver and Percy drove through in Tolliver's flashy red convertible. Percy was slumped in the passenger seat, still dejected, but Tolliver raved about the cash they could make on this crowd.

Isaac Thacker was thinking along the same lines as he drove through with his dad and three brothers. "Do you know how much money we could make selling that moonshine at two bits a glass?"

"You have a good retail mind, son," Archibald said, "but we're in the wholesale business." He shook his head. "We should have gotten it out last night. Now we'll have to wait until everyone leaves. Hey, Governor!" This last was called jokingly to Tolliver driving along beside them.

Tolliver nudged Percy. "Governor! What do you think?"

Sammy, riding by on his bike, bit his lip to hide his grin. He exchanged a wink with Thacker and chained up his bike. People surged all around him, more people than he recalled ever being in Barrington before. The reporters were interviewing people on all sides. One snagged a dazed-looking Perry.

"Tell us what you think about what you have started here, Reverend."

Perry stared at him. "They're going to ruin the lawn." That was all they got out of him.

Tolliver was more than willing to say more than that. He took the microphone from the reporter's hand. "I sure am proud and honored to be part of this crusade! We must take action against the evils of these Weevils…" He droned on, dragging up all the pious phrases he could think of and making himself sound in charge and humble at the same time.

Then the reporter caught sight of Sammy, leaning against a tree and watching everything. "Oh, good, let's get the mute. Make sure you have the church in the background," he said to his cameraman. "Here we have the man who will shortly light the great bonfire. Sammy is his name. Sammy, you're a deaf-mute, right?"

Sammy half ignored him, gazing around with a delighted expression at all that was going on.

"Just smile and nod, Sammy," the reporter said.

Tallasy, taking pictures right and left, noticed the reporter trying to get a response of some kind out of Sammy and immediately flew to his rescue. "Hello, Sammy," she said brightly, worming in between them. "Why don't you just ask him if he peels his bananas before he eats them?"

Sammy spent his grin on a child passing. The reporter wasn't so amused.

"Oh, a talker. What's your name?"

"Joan of Arc," Tallasy drawled. "I love bonfires."

Sammy chortled inwardly, his eyes following the trail or a rocket flying into the sky.

"I see you've got some Weevil records there to burn."

"Oh, no, these are some Frank Sinatra records of my mother's that I've been longing to incinerate for a long time." She pulled the mic toward her. "Well, that's all for now, folks. More news at 11."

The reporter gave up.

Finally the sun went down, and the crowd began to call for the fire to be lit. Tolliver grabbed Perry and pulled him over to where Sammy was standing by the wood. He was handed a torch, which he lit and handed to the minister.

"Here you go, Reverend. Take the torch. Now hand it to Sammy. Hand it to Sammy, Reverend. Come on!"

Perry, still with that deer-in-the-headlights look, passed the torch over to Sammy. It was kind of awful, Sammy thought as he stood holding the torch. He heard every sour note from the band, every voice screaming, and couldn't help picturing that day Tolliver had thrown the firecracker at him to make him jump and talk. And now here he was about to light Tolliver's biggest firecracker ever. Well, he just couldn't do it. He wouldn't go along with it. He stood looking at Tolliver with his patent, blank look. With a sigh, Tolliver took the torch and lit the bonfire himself. People cheered and began to toss records on the pile as the flames climbed and sparks flared. Children were lighting firecrackers and rockets. "Praise Jesus!" Tolliver said hypocritically.

Sammy watched as one boy set a match to a rocket—and flinched. The rocket blasted sideways, flew up, and crashed straight through the round stained-glass window that the Barrington Church members were so proud of. Furthermore, it plummeted directly into the baptismal font—which was full of alcohol! It exploded, and within minutes the entire building was in flames. Members clutched each other in horror, Tallasy buried her face in Sammy's shoulder, the fire brigade raced for the fire engines.

Percy quivered. "Oh no. Oh no! No insurance! Not a nickel!"

Perry cried, "No! Some of my people might be in there! God, don't let anyone die!" And without a thought he plunged through the door.

"Reverend, come back!" one of the firemen shouted and dashed after him.

The town held its collective breath, sure their new minister was a goner. Women hid their children's eyes. After interminable minutes, a figure appeared in the flame-filled doorway. The crowd roared. It was Reverend Perry Ray Pruitt, bearing the unconscious figure of the fireman.

It was a night to remember. Perry Ray Pruitt had finally felt the hand of the Almighty, but the fallout from the Weevils' bonfire had some more far-reaching results.


	8. Chapter 8

Perry had found his true calling that night in the fiery furnace, and his ministry began to thrive. Chairs were set up under awnings in the park just down the road from the burnt-out shell of Barrington Church, and he conducted church services there, baptizing many in an improvised baptismal font. The townspeople vowed to rebuild the church, brick by brick, dollar by dollar.

The volunteer fire department also gained, finding in Perry a willing fireman and a great softball player.

Archibald Thacker vowed to stop trafficking in moonshine. It was quite a surprise to his four sons, who'd inherited his love for moneymaking, and to Sammy. But Archibald knew that the church wouldn't have been destroyed if there had been water in that baptismal font, and it shook him more deeply than he'd let on that someone might have been badly hurt or even killed. Money wasn't worth _that,_ he decided. His sons tried to protest, but Archibald put his foot down firmly. There would be no more moonshine for the Thackers.

For Sammy and the Tynans, the changes were hugely life-changing. Tolliver Tynan was arrested and charged with embezzling thousands of dollars of the church's money. Percy Queen never stole a dollar for himself, so he wasn't charged. After the initial shock, Tolliver took it in stride, counting as usual on his charm, family's reputation, and future inheritance to get him off the hook. So what came next was a big surprise.

On the second day of the trial _Georgia vs. Tynan,_ after all the opening speeches had been made and various insurance agents had testified to the lack of insurance money and various church members had testified to the fact that there _should_ be insurance money, Lawyer Heinman for the Prosecution called his last witness.

"The State calls Sammy Ayers to the stand."

The audience erupted incredulously. Some, like Norm, Lucille, and Tallasy, were astonished and not sure what to think. Some, like Mrs. Tynan, were indignant—how dare they make a mockery of this trial?—what could Sammy add to it?—he probably didn't even know what embezzlement was. Some, like Tolliver, were frankly amused and began to laugh in derision. Only Archibald Thacker understood the significance of this, and his great laugh was one of triumph. So Sammy was going to speak at last. What ironic justice for Tolliver and his cherry bombs!

The doors opened, and Sammy walked in with his quiet stride. Everything he did was done with an air of quietness. He took his seat, and his eyes met the accused's. Tolliver was still laughing, his face more clearly mocking Sammy than it ever had before. Sammy's look had something different in it, though. It wasn't the blank, questioning look, nor the air of being in his own world. It was a look that told Tolliver once and for all that Sammy was a man of complete mental ability and cognizance.

The bailiff brought a Bible to the stand and motioned for Sammy to put one hand on it and raised the other. "Do you swear," she enunciated clearly, "to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

Sammy hesitated, and Thacker leaned forward intently. Could he do it? After twenty years of silence, twenty years of listening and never responding, twenty years of pretense become habit and second nature, could he bring himself to do it? Sammy knew that this would mean the end of many things, especially of his simple, quiet life in Barrington, but one thing he remembered was his mom telling him that you didn't go back on your word. If you agreed to do something, you did it. Sammy opened his mouth…

To his knowledge, this was the only trial in the history of American jurisprudence that was over in just two spoken words. Never had two words so utterly galvanized the entire population of a town as did the words Sammy Ayers spoke in just the kind of quiet, gentle voice you would have expected him to have: "I—I do."

The audience gave a collective gasp. Thacker threw back his head and laughed again. Norm's eyes nearly started out of his head, and Lucille's hand squeezed his arm compulsively. Harvey choked and thought, aghast, _I knew that boy wasn't deaf the first time I saw him._ Perry broke into a delighted grin and glanced up to Heaven with a prayer of thanks for this further sign. Maddie Tynan fainted, and Percy Queen came close to doing the same.

Tallasy stared at Sammy with huge eyes, and into her mind flashed everything she'd ever told him. _He knows! He knows everything I've said!_ And somehow, as astonishing as that was, she realized she didn't mind. In fact, she was glad.

The first thought in Tolliver's mind was, _I knew it!_ That day, back when he threw the cherry bomb, he'd _known_ the kid getting all the attention wasn't deaf. Fury flared up—fury that Sammy had been able to convince him, to fool him. And he remembered all the times he'd abused Sammy and realized that that vaguely smug look that had always lurked in Sammy's eyes had been amusement at _him—_ at Tolliver Tynan. And then he remembered with horror all the things he'd said in Sammy's vicinity, all the times he hadn't been discrete, and he knew it was over. Sammy Ayers had bested Tolliver Tynan—had bested him every moment of every day of the last twenty years.


	9. Chapter 9

After it was all over, no one could find Sammy. He knew everyone would besiege him at once, so he fled to his favorite spot, a path along a river. Tallasy found him there several days later, sitting on a rock and gazing into the water.

"Sammy!" she called from a distance. His first response was not to respond, but a second later he realized he could, and he swung around to smile at her. Even knowing, as she did now, that he could hear, it was still a little startling to see him respond. "Hey, Sammy. I'm glad I found you before everyone attacked you."

He let his amusement show. "I—I'm glad, too."

Tallasy shook her head. "It's so weird, Sammy. I'm not used to hearing words come out of your mouth."

"I'm not…used to it either." He rose to his feet, and they began walking along the path.

"So how did it happen? Why did you pretend to be deaf and mute all these years?"

Slowly, hesitantly, he told her about his mom disappearing and his realization about being "deaf." "At—at first it was just a way to—to hide—a way to protect myself. But after a while everybody thought I was…deaf, and they started talking around me like…I wasn't there. I—I just kind of went with it. Norm and Lucille were so nice to me…and I got in so deep I thought it would all…go away if I told the truth. The funny thing is…I liked the way people…trusted me. But on the first day…when Tolliver threw that cherry bomb to make me jump…I wanted to tell you…"

Tallasy stopped and leaned against the rail of the wooden bridge over the river. "Tell me what?" she prompted, her breath catching in her throat.

"…Everything." He turned away to stare down at the water.

"You're not gonna quit talking, are you?"

"No! Never. I'm just not used to…words, explaining how I…feel. I'm sorry—about your mother."

Tallasy's face fell just a little. _Oh._ "No, don't be." She thought about her mother's death, just after the court case. "She always did what she wanted. There were generations of heart problems in that family. She wouldn't listen. No doubt about it—she sure was surprised that you could talk." She smiled a little, sitting on the bench against the rail of the bridge. He sat on the opposite side. "Can I ask you something? Remember a while back, when I'd just come home for my visit? I was playing the piano, and I thought I saw you—"

"Listening," Sammy smiled.

"I thought so. You had such a strange look on your face."

It was still taking him a moment to remember to respond. "My mama had a music box that played the same tune as you were playing. I used to listen to it over and over…when she'd be gone, or I was havin' a bad day. It was…so many years ago."

Her reminiscent look responded to his. "That was my father's favorite piece."

"Oh, that's nice. I—I like having something in common with you."

Tallasy's sweet smile crossed her face, and Sammy saw something in her eyes that made him glance down at his hands.

"So now you're leaving." Was there disappointment in her eyes?

"Yeah. I got my voice back. Time to go try it out." How did she know him well enough to know he was leaving?

"I'll miss you," Tallasy said frankly.

Sammy's eyes flew to hers, astonished. She would?

Tallasy smiled at him, easily reading his eyes. She made up her mind. It was 1965, times were changing, and she knew she'd have her way eventually, no matter what.

* * *

Norm carried the suitcase into Lucille's Kitchen and set it on a stool. "Well, here it is."

"You mean you had that all these years and didn't even tell anyone?" Lucille demanded, realizing what it was. "Not even me?"

"Well, it just wasn't time," Norm said gently.

"Time for what?"

"Lucille, I'm trying to tell you. Now, first I had to find out what happened to his mother. Then I had to make sure nobody complicated his situation."

"Well, it seems to me you're the one who complicated the situation," Lucille said dryly.

"Lucille!" Norm snapped. "That boy heard every word we said all this time and _never spoke!_ Now, I—I—" He turned away. "I feel…"

"Cheated," she said pragmatically.

"Yeah…I guess."

"Betrayed."

"Yeah."

"Hurt."

He turned on her. "Well, don't you?"

"Well-I…I just think he musta done what he had to."

"Oh, Lucille." Norm shook his head. He didn't understand how she could just accept it. This boy that he'd loved and trusted all these years had been lying to them all these years, and that _hurt._

Lucille looked out the window. "Here he comes."

Sammy parked his bike and hesitated at the door. Tallasy had convinced him to go talk to them, confront the situation, but while it was becoming easier to talk to her, Norm and Lucille were a different matter. He knew he'd broken their trust, and that _hurt._ He sighed and entered the cafe. Norm and Lucille just watched him as he entered, faltered, half turned away, nervously picked up some dishes from a table and carried them to the end of the counter. Finally he took a deep breath and plunged into speech.

"I 'spose I owe you a big apology." When neither answered, he went on, "A—an explanation—some reason for—I don't blame you for bein' mad."

"I'm not mad," Norm said in a shaky tone, and then abruptly turned and walked away. He didn't go far, though, and Sammy could see him out of the corner of his eye.

Lucille looked a little more sympathetic, and Sammy moved to sit on a stool near her.

"I'm sorry, Lucille. It's just—well, everybody got used to me bein' the way I was, and, well, you needed someone to listen to you, and Norm needed someone to listen to him—everybody needed someone to listen to them, and, well, years just went by, and time passed, and I just kept listening!" After so many years of not explaining himself, the words just poured out. "I didn't want to hurt anybody—I certainly didn't—"

"Norm Jenkins, you get back in here and explain this suitcase!" Lucille interrupted. She felt it was high time everybody was honest with each other.

Sammy stared at the suitcase and recognized it. He'd always thought Mom had taken it, or maybe it got left on the bus. "Where did that come from?" He stared up at Norm coming back slowly into the cafe and realized that Norm had held back from him as much as he'd held back from Norm.

* * *

The next day he and Norm met with Tolliver, Tolliver's lawyer Sinclair, and Judge Neeley. The suitcase sat on the table before the judge, who withdrew an envelope from it. Norm wouldn't tell Sammy why they were meeting, only that he would find out.

Sinclair said, "Judge, may I say something on behalf of my client?"

"No," the judge said flatly.

Both Tolliver and his lawyer's eyes widened, but they subsided.

"This is a sad day for me, Tolliver," the judge said in his deep drawl. "I must inform you that I am sentencing you to two years in the State Prison for the embezzlement of church funds."

Tolliver's eyes closed as he winced.

"I say _sad_ ," the judge continued, "'cause I knew your father. Used to fish with him. Finer man never cast a fly."

Tolliver looked up, confidence returning. He was still Alfred Tynan's son. "Hey, Judge Neeley, that's what you're here for, right?" he said patronizingly. "Now, I figure with time off for good behavior, I can do it standing on one foot in no time at all. I'll be off and runnin'—and a better man for it," he remembered to add.

"Let me finish, if you please, Tolliver," the judge said coldly. "Your father's iron-clad will left his entire estate upon the death of Mrs. Tynan to his eldest son."

"That's me, Judge," Tolliver smiled, "and my sister Tallasy can't challenge it; she's adopted. We've known that for years. Heck," he laughed, "I'm the one who told her." He ignored Sammy's shocked eyes.

 _You would be._ Neeley had never liked Tolliver. "Well, that's very impressive, Mr. Tynan," he said sarcastically. "But now let me tell you a thing or two. _Eldest son_ is the key here. Now among these documents, sworn to and verified by your father before his death is this notarized letter dated a year before he died. I'd like to read it because it sounds exactly like the Alfred Tynan I knew."

Sammy had no idea where this was going, and from the looks Tolliver and Sinclair were giving each other, neither did they. Norm smiled knowingly however.

"'I have met the lad,'" the judge read, "'recognized to be in my own true image, brown of eyes, wide of brow, bold of chin, warm spirit, born to me of the only person who showed me love and unselfish commitment, her full name being Ellen Ayers.'"

Sammy's breath caught in his astonishment. Norm glanced at him with a smile. He'd held this knowledge for the last twenty years, and now it was a great satisfaction to see Tolliver, who had always looked down on the man now proven to be his older brother, stare as if he'd heard himself declared certifiably insane.

Judge Neeley shook his head. 'Bout time Tolliver Tynan got his comeuppance. "Tolliver, this just ain't been your summer."


	10. Chapter 10

Several days later, Sammy sat on the bench outside the bus station in the same place he had sat twenty years ago. Norm came out of Lucille's Kitchen and sat next to him.

"Well," he said awkwardly, "the bus is here. Here's your ticket."

"Thank you," Sammy answered quietly. He wished he knew what to say.

"Off and on I'd tell myself, Norm, you got no right to keep him here. But you looked so helpless, I figured maybe a little while longer." Without thinking he had slipped back into the habit of talking to Sammy as if he didn't hear. "Maybe I didn't do it right, but I figured I owed it to your mother. Well, I got that right. She didn't desert you back there." He had told Sammy briefly about what happened to Ellen Ayers twenty years ago, but they had not spoken of it in depth. Sammy had gone away and cried for his mother for the last time.

Now he said, "How did you find her?"

"Years of bus passes, Saturdays spent going up and down the bus lines. I ordered a proper headstone. You could go visit it if you wanted."

Sammy nodded, and they sat quietly for a moment. "From time to time," Sammy said thoughtfully, "I've thought that if I could pick out a dad for myself, I'd pick someone pretty close to being like you. Not exactly," he said with a smile, "but close."

Norm stared at him, struggling between tears and a smile. "Oh, Sammy…in all my years I don't recall anyone saying anything that nice to me."

The screen door banged as Lucille came out of the café bearing a paper bag. "Now why don't you go on?" handing him a bag of lunch. With a quick move she put her arms around Sammy, who held her gently for a moment. Then she pulled away, and he could see that she was blinking and swallowing even as she patted the lunch they'd mashed between them with a "Oh, look what we've done. Now get!" And she disappeared back into her café where Sammy knew she would probably have herself a long cry.

"Well, I guess I'll just get," Sammy said.

Norm held out his hand awkwardly. Sammy gripped it tightly, and they looked at each other for a second. Then Sammy turned and got on the bus and drove away.

Sammy stared out the window as the bus pulled out of Barrington. He had not been far out of town in twenty years, and now his dream of travelling was being fulfilled. Not only did he have his father's money (it was so strange to think of having a father!), but he had the money he himself had invested. He had left a lot of it for Norm and Lucille; they would never have to worry about retirement. He had also given Tallasy enough to travel all over the world and take her pictures., and had provided Tolliver with pocket money while he was in prison. The way he saw it, he'd lost an enemy and gained a brother. After a long thought, though, he had decided not to provide for more than Tolliver's basic necessities after prison; it would be good for him to earn his money honestly. Tolliver would probably hate him for a long time, but maybe he'd eventually see the wisdom of it.

Sammy knew he'd miss Barrington, his friends and his quiet life there, but he also figured everyone needed a big change every now and then. He was going out to learn and experience life and _talk!_ His only regret was that he hadn't seen Tallasy before he left. Somehow he'd miss her more than anyone—

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud car horn. Someone was driving right behind the bus and honking continuously. A boy in the back exclaimed about the red sports car. The only red sports car Sammy knew was Tolliver's…

The car sped past the bus and parked some way ahead on the side of the road. Tallasy got out, grabbed her keys, camera, and bag, and slammed the door with a wicked glee. Tolliver wouldn't miss his precious car in prison. With that slam of the door, Tallasy paid back her brother for telling her with such obvious enjoyment, years ago, that she was adopted. The bus had pulled up behind her, and she skipped up the steps, handed over her ticket, and proceeded down the aisle.

Sammy looked up as Tallasy stopped beside him. The smile in his eyes responded to the one on her face.

"Is this seat taken?"

He removed the suitcase from the seat next to him. "No."

"Then I guess I got on the right bus." Her smile spread, and her eyes twinkled as she sat next to him.

Sammy looked at her for a second. She was Tolliver's adopted sister…but not his. He smiled and opened his suitcase. "I have something to show you." He took out the music box, touching it lovingly. He'd missed it all these years. It reminded him of his mother. He opened it, and the familiar tune filled the air. Tallasy's breath caught and he touched the edge of the music box. _Her_ father gave it to his mother, she was sure of it. With a sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder, and he put his cheek against her hair as the bus rolled on through the countryside.


	11. Chapter 11

_Epilogue_

Sammy went back to Barrington quite often. He couldn't stay away. Besides, he liked to go visit Tynan House. He'd given most of his money to have the house made into a home for lost, runaway, and orphan boys, and it was quite a success. The first time he came home, he wasn't very surprised to find that Norm and Lucille had become Mr. and Mrs. Norm Jenkins, with sheepish but unrepentant faces. The second time he came home, he had Tallasy in tow, and the Jenkins weren't very surprised to find that they had become Mr. and Mrs. Sammy Ayers. Sammy always remained a quiet man with a still, peaceful face and eyes that never seemed surprised at anything, but his smile was ready and all-encompassing…though no one could ever make him smile like Tallasy could.


End file.
